The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze
by Fighter1357
Summary: John Grayson is looking for his song-girl. The woman of his dreams, the one that would fill his heart with wisdom and love and patience. His song-girl. To her, she was looking for her daring young man. Then they meet. Pre-season 1. The story of how the famous Richard Grayson's parents met; fan-made.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze**

**Author: Fighter1357**

**Date Published: 7/6/13**

**Rated: T for Teen**

**Characters: John Grayson, Mary Grayson**

**Genre: Romance/Family**

**Summary: John Grayson is looking for his song-girl. The woman of his dreams, the one that would fill his heart with wisdom and love and patience. His song-girl. To her, she was looking for her daring young man. Then they meet.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable characters, places, names and/or items. These characters/places belong to their respective owner. I am simply toying with them**

* * *

It was early morning, the circus wasn't even open yet. They were still unpacking, half of the train was already undone. They liked to think themselves like the Romans, able to build something and take it down in a matter of hours. That was how the circus was supposed to be, pack and unpack as fast as possible. Still, it was morning and despite the circus' performers usually early waking hours many were still slumbering within their trailers, unaware of the early morning fog that seemed to have crept its way through to Philadelphia. Many were awake, however, making small fires and cooking over them instead of the small kitchens the train cars held. Two young men were sitting on top of a trailer, their legs swinging. One bit into an apple and the other snacked on a piece of slightly cold bacon.

"You know," one began, "I bet you I could spit all the way to that tree stump."

"No," the other replied, shaking his head as he looked warily one. He was clearly older and you could only tell because he was barely taller, even sitting down. He glanced at his brother (it was the eyes, if you looked closely) and smirked just a little. "It'd probably land on your lap."

"Tt," the younger scoffed. "Wanna bet? Five dollars."

"You don't have five dollars and certainly neither do I," the elder retorted.

"Um… fine. A nickel," he replied swiftly, grabbing the edges of the worn trailer and pulling himself up and holding his hands up as if he were taking a picture. Taking a step back he gestured to the stump, smiling as he awaited his brothers comfirmation. "And? The verdict is?"

"I would imagine," the elder began, "that you are expecting a yes and I, however, shall reply with a nay, dear brother for I am above childish games."

"You're twenty-seven Richard, you're barely old enough to realize your meaning in life," the younger said, to the elder (Richard, we find his name to be), scrunching up his nose.

"And you are seventeen, brother, I doubt you have any knowledge of knowing my thoughts," Richard retorted, shrugging with a mocking look on his face as he rolled on his back and stood straight up on his feet, as if he hadn't thought about falling forward from the sloping roof and onto the ground a good few feet down. He sat there with his hands on his hips, his gray eyes scowering the Philly skyline, he peered into the fog and scrunched up his nose. "Too much pollution," he muttered, "It's upsetting _Kuntari._"

"Pah," the younger snorted with a dismissive wave of his hand. "It's fog brother, though I will admit the air is stickier here than most, however, how can we complain?"

"With our voice," the elder replied sarcastically. "Come, we have to help unpack. We're here for a week and the faster we can unpack the circus, the faster we can get inside in the air."

"I believe, if I'm correct, that the fresh air is outside you religious nut," the younger retorted, laughing gayly.

Richard rolled his eyes and walked to the side of the trailer, climbing down a slightly rusted ladder. The younger brother smiled, turning back toward where the stump was and spitting. It fell short. Frowning, he followed his brother down the ladder, they ducked inside the trailer. It was large, for such a transportation device and held a small kitchen stacked high with fantasy and science fiction novels, there were two bunks and a small curtain that led to a thin hall with a bedroom at the end and a bathroom to the right. Richard glanced back at his brother and sat down on an old couch that was nailed to the ground, looking like it was well loved and used and probably constructed in the sixties. He watched his younger brother by two years pick up a few books off the ground, stacking them high with the others.

"You realize that they will keep falling off if you put them on the already limited counter space we have, John," he replied nonchalantly.

The younger, who we can now call John, gave his brother a sheepish look and shrugged, glancing at the stacks of books that were scattered not only on the counter but across the top bunk, which was already a mess with an array of magazines and sketch books filled with costume ideas and singers. "And you sitting on the couch telling me off isn't very well going to help unpack the tent, now is it?"

"Smartass," the elder replied.

"Better than being a dumbass if you ask me," John retorted smartly. "Where's Karla? And John?"

"They went to visit Mark, saying something about helping clean knives," Richard replied, shrugging helplessly as he hefted himself up, stretching. His warm cotton shirt and well worn pair of sweat pants stretch along with him, looking only barely too short. John rolled his eyes mumbling under his breath about "how messed up that sounded" and Richard gave him a look that he always did. There was a long running joke that, instead of running to join the circus like most "outsiders" would say, John Grayson would run off and join corporate America. It was to say, at the very least, a long running joke since he had been twleve and announced he was going to be a lawyer when he grew up. That, in the end, didn't happen because here we see him in the circus with his brother, his brother's wife and son and as a Trapeze Artist. He was apart of a team with his brother and sister-in-law and his nephew, who was seven years old and still technically not allowed on the ropes till he was older but still went on anyway, and they were called The Flying Graysons.

They were good, better then most some would admit. They said there was something off, they needed something. Richard and Karla, seven years married with a seven year old son, were mostly the main act and John flew in the background but he needed someone. Those who had seen it had said John was talented, he was the real deal. He could take a simple gymnast and turn her into the most stunning trapeze artist the world had ever seen. And, thinking gayly of a song, John very much prouded himself in the fact and would dream (he was a dreamer, Karla would tell him, and she wasn't sure if that was good or bad) of a girl, someone who would come along and entice all of his hopes and dreams. The perfect woman for John, Karla would tell her husband, is in a lovers song.

"Messed up or not, I should go check up on them. You need a girl, John, you keep asking about mine," Richard stated, laughing. There was a serious note in his voice and John, being only seventeen and still a child in a brother ten years his senior's eyes, stuck his tounge out at him.

"I've told you-"

"Yes, yes, your dream girl- I know, I've heard," he stood up and walked over to the door. "You tell me where she is." Then he was gone, walking out and leaving the door to screech close, it's hinges slightly rusted and in a high need of oil both boys neglected to acquire. John sighed, picking up one last book off the ground and staring at the cover, and began thinking of his song-girl; that's what Karla called her, his song-girl. The girl of his dreams and he would say she _was_ his song-girl because she would have the most beautiful voice that he had ever heard and that she was coming, soon. John was a dreamer and a lover but also a realist and knew someday he would have to be rid of his song-girl, because he had to grow up.

But he was young and he had time, he thought, and why begin to lose hope now?

He would find his song-girl and he would marry her and he would sweep her off her feet and carry her off, flying away on his flying trapeze.

The daring young man set the book down and sighed, taking his coat and walking out in the fog. Already fires were burning and the train, which was slightly wet from morning dew, was illuminated down the line of light. He passed by friends and family, asking where his brother had gone to. In all his years of living with the circus (his whole life, practically), he could never remember where Mark's train was. The knife thrower and his soon-to-be-wife lived by the back, he knew, but he never knew which one.

"They need to paint these damn trains," he muttered under his breath as he waved to the Lion Tamers, "they all look too much alike."

"Bangin' man!" someone behind him yelled, having heard his mutters. He turned slightly, giving a thumbs up and then walked further on. Soon he heard his brother's and Karla's laugh and came upon a crazy scene.

John (his nephew, who was named after him) was laying on the dew covered ground with mud on his face and a knife next to his hand. Richard and Karla were both laughing at their sons surprised face, though Karla was slowly dying down and beginning to look at her son with slightly fearful eyes, expecting him to cry. Mark and Susanna (Mark's fiance) both held bemused expressions on their faces.

"Look like you've seen a ghost," John remarked, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"Good to see you up," Karla remarked, her brown eyes looking him over. "Dreaming of your song-girl again?"

He gave her a pointed look and smirked slightly, leaning down and pulling the knife that was stuck in the ground next to his nephew's hands. "May I ask what has occurred?"

His brothers son jumped up and began pouring out the events that had pertained merely minutes ago, his mouth slipping through the words too fast for his namesake to understand. The seventeen year old held a hand to the small boys mouth, frowning and crinkling his nose.

"What?"

Karla waved her hand, leaning into her husband. "Don't even try, I'm not even sure what happened and I was here."

"I see," John stated, standing up. "So, is anyone going to work and help set things up or are we just going to stand here and… not do it."

"I feel like," Susanna said, "you had something planned for that sentence and then it just went down the drain."

John shrugged, smiling. "What can I say? Still tired."

"You've been up since four," Karla stated dryly, "You woke me up. You know, I hope when you have kids they'll be just like you and will do exactly what you do."

John gave her a silly face, pivoting on his heels. "I'm going to see Pop Haley and I'm taking that as a compliment Karla." He began to walk off, ignoring Karla's reply and laughing quietly to himself. He loved Karla, like a sister, and she certainly acted like one; the sister he never had. They would argue and tease and poke (metaphorically and literally) at each other until the other snapped and one was explaining to John the Younger why he couldn't talk to the other. Richard, generally, stayed out of it, claiming that he was too old for childish things. Karla would then ask if she was old and Richard would reply no, because it was the safest thing to do.

He walked back along the line of trains, watching as doors opened and well known faces stepped out into the fog and early morning light, which was just starting to peek above the spring trees. That's right, John remembered, it's March Twenty-first, the first day of spring. He smirked, kicking a rock and watching it skid across the cracked cement. No matter how famous and respected Haley's Internationcal Traveling Circus was, they still got the broken, unused parking lots filled with trash and cracked cement. A railway, still connected to the original road but unused, ran past the lot and the city of Phillidelpia thought it grand that the circus trains could use this old lot, which was quite large. It held cement (cracked and stained with gum and tabacco) and a plot of trees. Right by it ran a probably very important highway, but John hadn't bothered to figure out which one it was. For all he cared, it was just a road and it would stay nameless.

He was used to this and wasn't bothered by the places he and his brother and his brothers family stayed. He didn't often comment on their situations but Karla would badger Haley into telling the city they were going to (because it was too late when they got there) that they needed a nicer, clean lot where it would be safe.

"John!"

John spun around, grinning as he saw the owner of the circus walking toward him. "Pop, I haven't seen you since last night. It's been far too long!" he exclaimed jokingly, smiling.

The older man smiled, looking at the surrogate son with kind, old eyes. He wore a pair of raggedy jeans with supenders, and a well worn t-shirt that John would see him in everytime they were unpacking and could only guess it was his working shirt. That, or he simply loved it too much. A suede jacket was over the whole charade and Haley was certainly a sight.

"A penchant for jokes, I see, today," Haley stated, crossing his arms of his large chest.

John shrugged. "I was looking for you, to see if they needed help setting up the tent." He looked to his left, above the train cars and saw the familiar red and white stripped tent already set up, it's three points of color a spotlight in the morning fog. "But I can see that's already done. Anything else need to be done? Personally, I'm bored and you know me. I've simply got to keep moving."

"The boy that never rests," Haley replied, "is what your father used to say to you. He was right, you never do."

"I slept a full eight hours last night, I find that very productive, sir," John replied, grinning at the mention of his father. The gypsy boy shrugged at Haley's wordless response (a smile), looking away. "Besides, I can help set up the boothes. They always need help with that. And we're opening today at noon and most of them aren't up."

"Boy, we've gotten so good at it," Haley began, looking as people began cleaning up their breakfasts and exiting trailers and begun to carry out large wooden posters, tables and supplies. "We'll be done in one hour. It's six-thirty boy, we'll be done before eight."

"True," John mused, "and then what? That's always the worst part. I suppose I can pull Richard and Karla to set up the trapeze, I have a new move I want to try."

"You always have a new move," Haley laughed, beginning to walk away with a slight wave of his hand.

"I wouldn't be good if I didn't," John called after him, laughing. The seventeen year old turned and slipped between two trailers, doing a set of cartwheels to the large red and white tent. It was dubbed "the big house" by most of the younger genereation (John's generation) and John thought it practically a second home, parr the entire circus of course. He skipped along, his hands stuffed still in his pockets and he knew he looked a little ragged to anyone else not in the circus who knew the boys almost "hunter" type look. His sweat pants and sweater were both loose on the muscular boy and were stained with rootbeer (despite his brothers relaxed attitude, he still wouldn't let John drink) and spaghetti sauce. His old Nike's were ragged and old n' muddy and he'd had them since he was fifteen and so they were slightly too small.

He didn't care, honestly, and he knew that it wouldn't matter. He knew his sense of style would change by the time he was brother's age and he would be a father, something that he intended to happen before he was thirty. He knew that he would change and of course, clothing was included. He didn't exactly prefer sweat pants and a "Washington Capitals" sweatshirt but they were comfortable and warm and despite this morning spring sun, a slight wind chilled the air. It was supposed to be in the seventies today though, low seventies, but seventies none-the-less and John felt this odd because they were in Philly and that was Pennsylvania.

He'd been to many different countries around the world; Germany, Russia, France, England, Romania, Turkey, Spain, Greece, Italy and many, many more. He'd seen gorgeous country villages that make a teenage girl dream, and he'd seen beautiful, stunning castles and traveled across the French countryside, eaten at German beer gardens, performed in the Colosseum in Rome. He'd been through all types of weather through that. But Phillideplia… in Pennsylvania, that was… average, to him at least. Seventies in Philly on the first day of spring… was… normal. He took a deep breath. Normal… ish.

He stepped into the big red and white tent, walking down a wide makeshift hallway filled with posters and pictures of the different performers. The boothe-workers weren't performers and genereally weren't depicted in the posters that were in the big house, but were plastered on the posters that were put up all over the city. A group of performers from the circus and a few city workers would run around town and race to see who could finish putting up posters. He smiled at the poster of his act, blue and white, and gave the picture of himself a thumbs up.

He walked into the big area-like space, a grin spreading across his face as he saw the trapeze. "The thing sturdy?" he called out to one of the rubes. The new guy nodded, smiling dryly.

"Great, thanks." Slipping back into the changing rooms, John Grayson stripped off his sweatpants and sweater, throwing on a piece of spandexthatcovered his torso and down further. It was sleeveless and had no "pants" It was deep blue, contrasting darkly with his gypsy skin, with a yellow stripe across the chest. He slipped on two small thin cloth slippers and walked out onto the woodchip, wincing slightly. He helped the workers set up the net, and then he climbed up the tall towers. Standing on the narrow board and looking down below. He loomed over the workers, and he smiled and waved.

"Boy, are you going to go up and not invite us?"

John turned and saw Karla and Richard walking toward him, John standing in the corner doing a set of flips. He's too rigid, the elder John thought, he needed to be more fluid.

He looked back at Karla and Richard. "Well, yes, that was the plan."

Karla climbed up the laddar, standing on top of the board and glaring at him, though he could hardly see her. Richard stood up behind her, grinning.

"I'll be the Catcher and you can be the Flyer," John started, "because I've been dying to get on this thing since we left New York." He smirked at Karla's shrug, knowing she preferred Cather to Flyer but wasn't going to be bothered with arguing with the younger man.

John unhooked the bar, holding it tightly in his chalked hands. He stood straight and jumped up, falling to the ground before the momentum pushed him back up. He waited a moment and then… "Lista!" he called.

Karla jumped and flew toward let go of his bar and just as gravity was about to do it's sly moves, Karla grabbed his wrists and he was flipping back up with her. They landed on his board moments later, both smiling.

"We're going next, dear brother, and I'll show you a thing," Richard called, laughing lightly.

"Show me? What in the world could you show me on the trapeze?" John joked lightly back, both taking position. Deciding who will be the catcher and who would be the flyer, John and Richard stood at the edges of the board.

"Let's do a birdie!" John called, "We haven't done that in a while."

Richard didn't respond for a moment, musing. "How about a Flexus, I still need work on that!" he yelled back, shifting his weight onto his left leg.

"Very true," John muttered under his breath. "Alright, we'll do that."

Richard nodded, and John yelled "Hup!". Richard jumped, falling and then going back and pushing his legs beneath the bar and then flying back. "Lista!" he cried, so John could jump. John did so, falling down and grabbing his brothers hands when they came into view. They landed and then both stated the things the other could have done better. Beneath them, John the Younger was watching his family do them and was wondering when it would be his turn to go, because he had to be up there one day with them. He had started too late, in his opinion but was getting much, much better.

Four hours passed before the family reached the end of their session, climbing down the ladders and opting to get a drink. John threw a towel over his shoulder, one that was hung up on the pole using the makeshift hook that he had made with a hanger years ago when he was only John the Younger's age. He had taken an old metal hanger and untwisted the hook, bending it back so it was as straight as the bent metal could possibly be. Then, he took one end and pulled it around the pole, pulling back so it was 'U' shaped and then crossing the ends. He twirled them and then curved on end up. In the end, the seven year old had been very proud of himself. John smiled at the memory and then began to wander outside.

The sun was bright and the early morning chill seemed to have evaporated with it's presense. There were cement blocks that blocked off the city sidewalk, where he could see people were standing, trying to get a look at "exotic circus performers". He smiled, though, even though there could never be anything special about him; he could fly. And that was all he did, day and night. Fly. It was all that's needed.

The other performers and circus members said he was young and impulsive and that he was arrogant. John had to disagree and who else could? Who knew him better than himself? No one. No, he mused, he was young and of course he was impulsive. He wasn't arrogant; he was kind, he was gentle. At least, he knew how to be. He was smart and was filled with love, love for someone. His family, his nephew… his song-girl.

"Sh…quiet!"

"Yeah, yeah…"

John turned around, suddenly hearing a pair of voices behind one of the cement blocks that wasn't lined up against the walk. He walked over, stopping short a few feet. "Hello? Anyone there?"

Slowly, a redheaded girl slid up behind the block. She had light auburn-reddish hair and pale skin, with bright blue eyes. She wore a green t-shirt and a pair of jeans and a light jacket. She was small, dainty and was smiling shyly. "Um… me?"

John smiled at the pretty face; she was beautiful. "And who might you be?" he asked lightly.

Suddenly, a boy about his age jumped up, wearing a nylon windbreaker from the eighties and looking very frustrated. He wore a pair of nice pants, however, though the knees were slightly scraped and John found it was probably from the cement. "She's my girlfriend," he stated defensively. John blinked. The girl gave the boy a reproachful look, glaring slightly. It didn't go with her eyes, no face like that should ever glare, John decided.

"Don't be rude," she remarked. "This is my boyfriend, Jackson King. My name is Mary Elizabeth Loyd."

"Well, Jackson King, Mary Elizabeth Loyd, may I ask what you are doing on the circus site?"

"I could ask the same thing," Jackson scoffed, looking disgruntled as he saw an older gypsy woman walk by in the distance.

John gave Jackson a flustered look, wondering why the man was being so defensive. He looked down at his clothing, holding his arms out wide. "I'm a performer, if you couldn't tell. You're not supposed to be here on the site; we're not even open yet, if I recall."

Jackson snickered. "You? A performer? How old are you, you barely look our age!"

"Jackson!" the girl cried in a scolding voice, "so what if he's a performer. And I'm sorry, it's my fault. I went to a circus when I was younger, you see, and I was honestly curious and I wanted to come and see before everyone else and so I dragged Jack along and well, we snuck in over the cement. I just… I got excited when I heard the circus was back in town." She smiled sweetly and John couldn't tell if she was lying and it was just two kids his age on the wrong block. She stepped out behind the block and Jack followed. Jack's clothing looked far too nice, not that John knew any betterand Mary just sort of had that innocent face. Heer almond shaped eyes filled with curiosity as she took John in.

"You're not going to kick us off are you? I mean, can I at least ask you a few questions?" Mary pleaded, glancing breifly toward her boyfriend. Jackson looked irritated. "Mary…" he mumbled under his breath, nudging her.

"You seem to think you're all that and a bag of chips, it's my turn now," Mary hissed, her voice going low. "So, what do you do?"

John smiled. "Don't you want to know my name first?"

"I suppose," Mry mused, smirking.

"Grayson," John said, holding out his hand. "John Grayson."

_**To be continued…**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze**

**Author: Fighter1357**

**Date Published: 7/6/13**

**Rated: T for Teen**

**Characters: John Grayson, Mary Grayson**

**Genre: Romance/Family**

**Summary: John Grayson is looking for his song-girl. The woman of his dreams, the one that would fill his heart with wisdom and love and patience. His song-girl. To her, she was looking for her daring young man. It happened suddenly, when they met, they weren't in love. But there was something there. **

**NOTE: I AM IGNORING NEW 52 BECAUSE WHAT WHAT IS THIS CRAP DC WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO PULL HERE**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable characters, places, names and/or items. These characters/places belong to their respective owner. I am simply toying with them.**

**REMEMBER: This is not canon, I don't know how Mary and John met. This is all from my imaginiation because I can because what even is canon with these two anymore? **

* * *

"Well," John began, pivoting on his heels. "I suppose this means I'm going to have to show you around, doesn't it?"

"I think we should be leaving," Jack snapped, grabbing his girlfriend's hands. Mary was smiling widely, her eyes wide and completely ignoring her boyfriend.

"Oh, could you? I've always wanted to have a tour of it without the whole she-bang and all. You know, without everyone doing their work."

Jack and John looked at her, both slightly confused.

"Why?" Jack snorted, but John hesitated before replying with his suddenly quieter voice.

"Interesting... well come on. I'm a trapeze artist-"

"Are you serious!?" Mary burst out, jumping from her boyfriends hand to walk next to the Romani boy. "I take gymnastics you see, I have since I was six. I've gotten pretty good I'd like to think, of course I doubt I'd ever be as good as you." She straightened up, beckoning with her right hand for Jackson to catch up from behind them. "Or are, if I think about it."

"Oh don't say that," John cut in before Jackson could say something. "I'm quite certain that you could have every much ability that I do. As a matter of fact, we (meaning my family and I) were taking a break. Would you like to see the trapeze up close?"

"No," Jackson stated. "Really, we should even be here in the first place. It's bad enough we broke onto the lot-"

"I don't care; Pop Haley won't care. Honestly no one really cares, those were pretty much put there for and by the city. I mean, sure we aren't exactly fond of having people sneak onto the lot but I mean sure so long as you watch from the sides it's fine. And I've practically grown up here!" he laughed. "I know everyone and no one will tell me off from showing you around the place."

Jack glared while Mary looked around skeptically. They were getting a few odd looks, but then again… once John was seen they would go back to whatever they were doing. "Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure."

"But that's not positive," Jackson put in.

"Nope," John replied cheerily as they walked up to the giant red and white tent. He threw open the flaps (rather large and heavy but he managed quite well) and almost walked in a strut-like way, so that Mary giggled and Jackson rolled his eyes. John walked through and held up his arms, as if he were a proud father showing his new born to old friends. Mary and Jackson walked forward, eyes both widening. Jackson, having never been to a circus because of his proud family stature, was both disgusted (from the wood chips on the ground) and amazed (the trapeze was quite tall). Mary had been to the circus, as previously stated, and recalled the memory and decided it was even better up close and not from the stands.

"Pretty impressive, huh?" John asked, putting his hands on his hips and staring at it rather proudly. "I can work that thing to do anything I want!"

"Really?" Mary stated, putting her hands on her waist and brushing red hair out of her face briefly. She seemed to have gained a sudden fiery attitude, though John guessed it was always there and it was just simply showing now. She looked at his with soft green eyes and smiled, almost a smirk, and implied that the harsh "really" had been for fun.

He smiled back. "Oh yes, anything I want. I'm quite good."

Jackson stepped forward, wrapping his hand around Mary's waist, his face honestly curious as he looked up. "How tall it is?"

"85 feet I think?" John asked himself, "I'm not quite sure, I know it's bigger than 80. Not quite 150 though."

"That's helpful," Jackson grumbled.

Mary shot him a look and then turned to John. "I imagine it would suck to fall."

John grimaced, it generally wasn't something you talked about. "Survival is slim to none. My family practices with a net, however for the actual shows we don't use one."

Jackson gave him a look that practically said "well that's dumb" and partly "well that's impressive". Mary looked skeptical of this and she eyed the trapeze. "But what if you fall?" She glanced at him with her blue eyes and tilted her head, a concerned but curious look on her face. She shifted slightly, so Jackson had to drop his hand from her waist and John pursed his lips.

"I'd rather not think about it, it isn't something commonly discussed by most aerial performers."

"Why?" Jackson asked.

"Jackson!" Mary squeaked, giving him a scolding look. She regretted mentioning falling in the first place. Her face began to turn red as she stared at him, refusing, it seemed, to look at John.

No, no," the performer inclined, "it's alright. We've seen people go… you know, like that. It's just best not to think about it."

"Have you?"

Mary's face seemed to get brighter as she stared at Jackson, who was forcefully moving ahead without glancing at her. John shifted awkwardly at the two and at the question.

"I haven't, my brother has though. A friend of ours, Boston Brand, has too. It's not something you forget, like I said… not something talked about. It's a dangerous job, sure, but… it's brilliant. I wouldn't have it any other way."

Mary finally looked away from Jackson, her face draining of blood, and she smiled (it looked rather forced) turning on her heels so she was facing John. Jackson looked satisfied, albeit a little sorry, but crossed his arms over his chest nonetheless and looked away.

"We should get going…" she muttered, more to herself than John.

He shifted. "See you at the show then? I can reserve some seats, I feel like you'll like it."

She opened her mouth to say something and then closed it. "I.. suppose we could, I could bring my sister."

"You know Sally probably won't like it," Jackson cut in, crossing his arms ovr his chest. Mary gave him a reproachful look.

"Who doesn't like the circus?"

John smirked a little at Mary's statement, agreeing silently to himself.

"You know she's conservative about things like this."

"You are too," Mary replied knowingly, smiling. "And you came."

"I came because I'm your boyfriend."

John winced and Mary's smile disappeared. "Oh, I see. Alright, well… I'll go later then and you can stay home and discuss the Stock Market or whatever the hell you want with Sally," Mary replied, crossing her arms and turning away. "I'll see you later John."

"Come right before the show, I'll show you some tricks," the boy awkwardly put in.

Mary nodded and grabbed Jackson's hand, waving goodbye to the performer and walking out the way they came. John watched them go, his eyes on her red hair and his thoughts on those wonderful blue eyes. He'd always wanted blue eyes, he thought the grey was dull. A smokey, foggy sort of misty grey that contrasted with his dark complexion and made him look odd. He was a dreamer, and was constantly thinking about unimportant things like this. He of course did not think that it was unimportant and often enough his complexion was something that he either wanted to change, or admire in the mirror constantly. His brother had the same dark grey and he hoped that if he ever had a son, that they wouldn't have his color eyes. His hair, yes because he thought that looked pretty damn good but his eye color? No. Grayson charm though, depended heavily on the hair and eyebrows (you had to work it) and John rather likes that. Tall, dark and ruggedly handsome, like a 1920s bar tender, or something like that.

John sighed and walked over to the trapeze, kicking at the wood chips with his slipper-covered foot. No matter what he did to entertain himself in life, he was always bored and he always ended back at the trapeze. Life needed something, he though, constantly. Glancing around and finding only his nephew, John began to climb the trapeze's ladder. He didn't grab the bar when he reached the top, he sat down and dangled his feet above the net, his elbows against his knees and his head against his fists. He sighed deeply, wondering when his life would begin.

He wondered if he would see Mary later today and with Jackson King. John scrunched up his nose, leaning back into the large metal post with his eyes to the light that flooded dimly through the red and white stripes. He had always been into girls (he was a bit of a playboy) and especially girls that were into the circus and the trapeze, so basically he hadn't been with many girls throughout his life. Plus, he lived in a _travelling _circus and he could not very well just stop and leave for a girl and he doubted a girl would just up and leave with him. Most of the girls that were his age he had grown up with in one way or another and he could only see them as good friends.

Though… there was Susan. He and Susan had sort of had a game going on between them. He liked her and he knew she liked him back, but neither had had to courage to say so. She was an animal tamer and was rough and tough and didn't put up with any shit that anyone had to say or do. Personally, he thought she could tone it down sometimes but they were friends, good friends, and maybe they could be something more one day. He laughed quietly to himself, recalling a memory that had only happened days before they entered Philadelphia. Both of them were helping in the big tent, taking things out. It was pouring rain and the circus couldn't wait another day, they had to get to Philly. So there both of them were standing outside with two rubes with a folded stand from inside the tent.

"_Grayson!" Susan yelled, "the hell you doing? Stop lollygagging and help me get this thing in the train!" _

_John laughed, getting the rain into his mouth and gurgling slightly. "Shut up and stop telling me what to do, Rino, I'm supervising." _

_Susan Rino growled at him, tightening her grip on the handles of the metal stand. "Don't sass me Grayson, or I'll stuff your head so far up your ass that the bump on your neck will be your nose!" _

_John laughed again, shrugging and grabbing the handle, and winking at one of the rubes, and helped heft the stand into the train car. Once it was finished, Susan walked over and punched him in the arm. _

"_You're so stupid." _

"_And you're bossy! Tomorrow, I can become smarter but you'll still be bossy!" _

"_Stop trying to copy Winston Churchill, it doesn't work!" _

John laughed himself out of the memory. She was bossy though and it seemed that this was her largest asset when making friends; she was also very convincing. Convincing and bossy, in sort of a bad way but good too. He laughed quietly to himself, leaning forward and standing up on the platform.

* * *

"You didn't have to be so rude," Mary remarked firmly, not daring to look at her boyfriend. She heard an exasperated huff behind her and the sound of nylon on nylon, meaning he was folding her arms. If looks could kill… the look she was giving the sidewalk and not her boyfriend could murder a crowd. "And don't get snippy with me," she reminded him, raising her finger into the air to point it out, "because you know I'll only get snippy back."

"He liked you!"

"So, he can like me! There's nothing wrong with that," Mary replied, rolling her eyes.

Jackson walked up behind her and grabbed her hand and looked straight into her eyes, stopping them in the middle of the walk. "You know what I mean, he like _liked _you. He was interested," the young socialite stated.

She sighed, rolling her eyes and glancing up at him. "He can be interested, so what? I'm with you. And lots of boys show interest in me (not to sound arrogant of course, a little rude of me to say so) and I haven't ever gone after them now have I?"

Jackson looked away, feeling irritated as they walked back into the high quality suburban neighborhood. "You could have at least not shown any interest back."

Mary's eyes widened and she stopped short, her mouth in a wide "o". Jackson walked two step in front of her when he spun around his heels to stare at her. "Oh no you don't, don't you dare turn this back around on me! I was interested in what he did with his life! He did something that I myself also have interest in and you were rude and mean and defensive! I'm sorry, but how is this my fault? Could you just for once respect what I do and how I want to learn?"

Jackson blinked, watching as she walked by, ripping her hand from his own, and stomped off in the direction of her house. He stood there for a single moment, watching her and then scurried off after her, blinking rapidly from what had just been said.

"Mary, I'm sorry, honest, it's just that I… I do get defensive when someone else likes you. It's because I love you!"

Mary stopped short and whirled around, throwing her hands up in the air. "Then show it!" And then she turned around,stomping off in the direction of the large mansions. She knew that it was harsh, but Jackson had to learn the hard truth and the only way that was going to happen was if she told it to him. She heard his footsteps behind her and, without thinking about it, she began to walk faster.

They came to an area that was filled with large houses, with large expensive metal cars. Sunny Spring Fields (something off a book, honestly though) was where Mary Loyd had lived practically all her life. Her father, Samuel Loyd, was a successful Lawyer that had offices in all the major cities in America. His wife, Caroline Loyd, was a former dancer who had retired after a leg injury. Mary had an older sister Sally who was engaged to a presumptuous business man that Mary was none to fond of.

They walked, though separated by a few feet, to Mary's house. Even though Jackson was well-welcomed in the Loyd household, Mary's body language told him otherwise. Jackson King came from a family that had begun to get rich during the sixties in Gotham, and who when had moved to Philadelphia when the city began to move to the dumps. They lived to Philadelphia so that Jackson's father, Ronald King (known to the public as Ron King), could begin building up the empire his family had created. Of course, King's company was nowhere near what it had been in the sixties or compared to Luthor Corp, Wayne Industries, or even Elliot or Crowne (Cobblepot was long gone) or any of the Higher ups of Gotham anyway and though he thought himself one of the big-wigs, he was not. He raised his son to believe that everyone was not as important as them. Jackson thought he was God's gift to all men and women and that places like the circus… were filled with trash, and were for trash and therefore he could not be seen there, because he was not trash.

Mary, when she had met him, was disgusted with the boy. He was so rude and arrogant (and they were only ten) but with her father's business meetings with Ron King as their lawyer, Mary and Sally were dragged along to learn the world of big business and soon enough, King brought his own son Jackson and the children were all stuck together.

"Goodbye Jackson," Mary replied politely before turning on her heel into the large house.

She walked into the front parlor (her parents were quite old-fashioned, as Mary was herself) to see her mother and father drinking tea, both sitting there reading. Her mother, an elegant older woman with a few streaks of grey in her hair, even at her age, looked young and clean as she sipped her tea. She smiled up at Mary when she walked in.

Her father looked up and smiled, setting down his magazine and gesturing to the piano. "Ah good, you can place a few pieces for us on the piano, would you dear?"

Mary, heaving a sigh of relief that they didn't ask where she had been, smiled warmly and nodded. She moved over to the piano and sat down, smoothing out her jeans nervously. Placing her hands on the piano, she began to play Canon in D., one of her favorite pieces. It wasn't the most classical but it was certainly one of her favorites. Her father hummed sotly to her playing, picking up his tea, the clink of glass against glass drowning in the sound of the piano.

"Where you dear?" Mary heard her mother ask.

She pretended not to hear, playing slightly louder.

"Dear?"

"Mmmh?"

"Where were you, it was quite early for you to be out," my mother replied matter-of-factly. She heard the clink of glass again.

"At the circus," Mary replied nonchalantly, acting as if nothing were wrong. There was no reply for a moment.

"What? Say that again dear?"

Mary switched to Clair De Lune almost automatically (this piece was not played loudly or roughly, perhaps Eine Kleine Nacht Musik would have better) and repeated: "At the circus, mother. They're back in town, isn't that great? Jackson and I went down to go see it before everyone else. Met an acrobat there. He was quite nice." And handsome, but Mary wasn't going to say that.

"An acrobat? Circus? Mary what in your right mind were you thinking? You could have been hurt? Or one of those gypsies could have stolen something of yours!"

Mary stopped playing, though she didn't turn around. "Mother the story that gypsies travel with the circus is long gone, many of them have lives now. And the proper term is "Romani", no Gypsy. Gypsy is a racial slur. They don't "travel in the circus" anymore, only in… 17th Century France honestly and you know that, you taught me that," she argued.

Her mother sighed. "Mary look at me. So there were no gyp-Romani's there?"

"Well… the boy we met, he was. But he was nice and showed Jackson and I around. He even showed me the trapeze! Oh you should have seen it, it was simply amazing! I meant honestly, it must have been 100 feet tall! Jackson asked about falling, we left after that. Well, I mentioned it but... Jackson pushed the topic."

Her mother gave her a scrutinizing look, though looked embarrassed. "Asked about falling?"

Mary looked away angrily. "Yeah, and the boy, John he said his name was, looked really uncomfortable. He said it isn't exactly something you talked about."

"Good boy Jackson," her father remarked, setting down his book, "put that circus boy in his place. Should be out there getting a proper job."

Really though, her father was so conservative she was surprised.

"Dad!"

"Samuel!"

"What?" Samuel Loyd began. "I'm right. He should be putting whatever skills he has left from growing up in the circus to good use."

"You haven't even met him? How can you judge?" Mary argued.

Her father tapped his temple with his index figure. "A simple knowing thought my dear."

Huffing, Mary abruptly jumped up and stomped upstairs, angrily closing her door. Moment later, she poked her head out from her room.

"I'm going to the show tonight! I'm almost eighteen! You can't stop me!"

Now that was a lie, she was only seventeen years old and they could stop her and only next year would she be eighteen. (It was only March too).

Well, she had never snuck out before.

* * *

John had never been so delighted to see anyone before.

When he saw Mary Elizabeth Loyd standing outside the circus he felt so much joy creep up inside him he almost did a flip right then an there. She hadn't seem him yet, of course, and was standing there in her jacket with her arms curled around herself to keep warm.

"Mary Elizabeth Loyd!" he called out behind her.

She spun around, looking surprised.

"John Grayson," she replied knowingly, smirking, as the surprised disappeared. "You out looking for me?"

"Maybe, if you want to be looked for."

She laughed lightly.

"Who knows maybe I do? Anyway, I've bought my ticket but…"

"Main show hasn't started yet, John replied glancing up at the big red and white tent. I can't bring you in yet but you can get in line. Or I can show you a few of those tricks out here like I promised.

"If I stand with you will I be able to get more quicklier?" she asked, ignoring his "tricks" statement.

"More quickly," he corrected, automatically.

She scowled. "I'm tired and cold, Mr. Grayson."

"They'll be opening up in a minute!" he replied cheerfully.

She smiled.

"Thanks."

He blushed slightly. "Thank _you_."


End file.
